


Tatiē

by snowflake_sunflower



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Elvish, Cuiviénen, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Primitive Elvish, technically since it doesn't follow the cuivieyarna, which I JUST found out about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowflake_sunflower/pseuds/snowflake_sunflower
Summary: Tatiē's awakening and life in Nen Etkuiwe (Cuivienen)When I say bad primitive elvish I mean itThe violence is just hunting but still.This is my first fic so please let me know if I've tagged stuff wrong/badly
Relationships: (eventually I hope), Tata & Tatië (Tolkien), Tata/Tatië (Tolkien)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're one of those people who like to listen to music while you read then may I suggest On The Nature Of Daylight (Orchastral Version) by Max Richter

The dark. That was weird: she didn't know why she'd called it that. She didn't know what any of these were. Words! Thoughts. Her thoughts! She could think. She wondered if she could do anything else. If she focused, she thought she could feel... something. She had a body. She wondered what she could do with that, if there was anything other than the dark (after all, why be able to sense it if it was all there was). She was breathing, she realised. Something in her chest was thumping.  
She opened her eyes.  
The dark, still, but the light too, now. Bright silver sparks of it, splattered across the sky.  
The stars.  
Oh, the stars. They were white, they were burning, they were beautiful. She wanted - something? To touch them. Yes!  
She didn't know how.  
And then, she found, if she didn't think about it, she could reach towards them. Then something came into view - her arm, and on the end of it her hand, - and strained upwards, upwards.  
The stars were out of reach.  
She felt a heavy ache in her chest. She decided to call it disappointment. Then she decided to find out why her back was colder than her front.  
She sat up, and realised there was a world.

Her name was Tatiē. It meant second. She did not know why she was not first, Iminye. She was the only Kwen she had seen moving around thus far. Then again, she had travelled only far enough to the edge of the hollow her people had awoken in. (They were hers, she had decided. They were still sleeping, helpless! They needed someone to protect them from the scary moaning she could hear, and she was awake to do it.) and just over the ridge, exploring. She had discovered that the moaning was the wind sweeping over the ridge at the edge of their hollow, and felt a little silly. Then she went back the other way, along the stream down the middle, and as she went she arranged her people's long head-hair over them so they would not be cold. She went all around the edges of her new home, and found the earth rose up and became rockier towards a mountain peak on one side, and fell away and became sandier down to a cold, clear lake on the other. From the high mountain she could see other mountains and their foothills to the north, a dark forest running over and between them like a river, then stretching south into the distance; it curved around the lake, which was long and wide; and over all arched the starry sky. Upon returning to the hollow and hearing their stream sing against it's bed, she discovered for the first time the concept of thirst, and shortly after the skill of drinking from her cupped hands. After that she found herself tired, so she returned to her laying-place to discover sleep.

She spent much of those first few days tending to her sleeping people as best she could when she did not know the world herself. Luckily, the needs of the sleeping seemed to sleep as well, unlike hers, of which there were ever more and more. She had discovered thirst, hunger, tiredness, and that blood and bruises could be caused by sharp or heavy rocks, and that those things all hurt. But she had also discovered speaking, which was thinking but louder, and she supposed other people would hear spoken words if they would just awaken. After that she had discovered that the bright flickering flashes in the stream were sometimes animals she called fish, and that the sharp rocks could make them bleed too, and if they bled enough they died and stopped wriggling long enough to be eaten, and then the hunger went away. They were not nice but they were much easier to chew than roots, which also staved off hunger. Then she discovered that some rocks were harder than others and some could be made even sharper by chipping them on each other, and she figured out how to cut the bones out of the fish, which made them better. With the bones she could make more things, and she had discovered that above all, making things delighted her.

Among her multitude of discoveries there remained many confusions. Near to her laying-place, lay a tall Kwen with a gentle face and thick arms. More than all the others, she wanted this one to wake up. She wanted to know why he lay so close, so much that she could roll over in her sleep and accidentally crash into him. She wanted to know what colour his still-closed eyes were. She wanted to know his name. She knew there were many others who lay in pairs or groups, but not why. She'd made out her own murky reflection well enough in the lake (she was fairly certain her own eyes were grey). She knew the names of a great many things, but not of her fellow Kwen, and instinct told her only they could tell her themselves.

She was lonely.

He was asleep, she knew, but she was lonely and she wanted to tell someone about all of the new things she'd learnt and made. Which is how it came to be that when he awoke, though the first thing he saw was the stars, as it would be for all Kwen, the first he heard was her voice and the clack of stone and flint. She stayed her hands as she saw his eyes open at last, a dark and fluid grey like the reflection of the dark sky in the lake, and her breath fled; and she watched in silence as he reached upwards, as she had, then sat up, to face her.  
"The stars!" He said, and she first experienced envy then, because it had taken her much longer to speak, but it was far overwhelmed by joy. Alone no longer!  
"Yes," she said, "I saw them too. See them, I mean, whenever I look up, but I saw them the first time, too." She felt like her own voice was strangely out of her control. She'd never had anyone who could listen to her words. It made her feel nervous, which was like fear but itchier and not so gut-wrenching.  
"No." He shook his head, and she felt her gut swoop. "I meant the ones in your eyes."  
What?  
"Did you not make them? The stars? I thought… " for the first time he seemed as unsure as she felt. She had not known a feeling could be seen like that. "It's just, you have a pair for eyes, you have those tools… you… I'm sorry," he said.  
"I didn't make them," she replied, feeling less panicked now, "I've only recently Awoken myself."  
"That's still good, though!" He hurried the words out, then hurried the next ones even faster. "That means you're like me and we can be - ah I need a word - friends!"  
She smiled at him. This is what she'd been missing. She felt the happiness bubbling up her neck until her voice seemed gone. And then everything flooded out at once.  
"I have so much to show you!"


	2. Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: my elves are not vegetarian.

Detritus digging into her palm, Tatië breathes the air deeply, focusing on the scented swirls of air that tumble through the trees. Just behind, Tata stalks forwards, hunched, painstakingly slowly, rolling pressure through his feet bit by bit and barely breathing through his open mouth; on all fours she shifts herself along sideways, with the same care, until the creature he's spoken of comes into view, stooped to drink from the river that is, further up, their stream. A deer, the word springs to mind, and she relishes the shape of it in her mouth, remembering it to speak later. She waves him over.  
"Well then? Shall we?" He barely dares to breathe, and she knows what he says more by the shape of his mouth and that they have discussed this before than by hearing.  
She nods. She had been hesitant but - she can almost taste the new knowledge they might learn, even if they fail.  
Tata works his way around, ever careful of the wind (they have decided that some creatures must have some senses better or different to theirs, based on how they act) and of the sound he makes. She waits what feels like an eternity before she hears the dull rapping of knuckles on a tree.  
The deer's ears prick.  
Tatiē springs forward. The deer bolts, but there is nowhere to go: Tata, too, has sprung out, on its other side, and to its back is the river.  
Deer, it turns out, bleed a lot more than fish.

They are also much, much heavier. She and Tata between them can hardly heave it up on their shoulders to carry home, especially tired as they are from the fight.  
By the time they reach home, its blood is all over their skin and in their hair, and the carcass itself is considerably lighter. The blood that has dried is oddly sticky, itchy on her skin, more like mud than water. They place it down inside the lower edge of their hollow, tired from the walk up the mountainside. Tata slumps down next to it. She is exhausted too, but also restless in a nervy way that keeps her on her feet longer. Taking a deep breath, she makes a conscious effort to relax her muscles, and is surprised by how many were tense.  
"Well then." She kneels purposefully by Tata and the deer, only to stop and realise she has no idea what she is doing. He lolls his head to face her and smiles idly.  
"Well then," he echoes.  
They spend several long hours up to their elbows in red gore, trying to determine which parts of it do what and how they can use it. As its bones are revealed, she exclaims over the size and weight of them, delighted by how much bigger and stronger they are than the fishes'. They eat most of the fat and meat, as much as they can, though there are some tough, shiny, white strips - tendons - even their sharp teeth cannot gnaw through, and they are both too full before they need to eat the slipperier, grosser parts.  
Done, she sits back on her heels to begin sorting through the bones. She finds that upon breaking one open there is more white fat inside, and though she is disappointed that there is less bone to work with, it is still something new, so she turns to tell Tata, who is staring with a gentle frown at the deer's discarded skin.  
"Tata?"  
"Hmm?" He jumps a little, and she laughs.  
"Thinking?"  
"Yes," he smiles, "What did you want?"  
"I've found more fat in the bones."  
"In the bones?"  
"Look," she says, shuffling over to show him. He takes the bone and inspects it closely, his frown returning.  
After a pause, he says "I don't think I can eat any more, Tatiē."  
"I'm not asking you to." she laughs, knocking his shoulder with hers, and gently taking the bone back from him. "What were you thinking about, before?"  
"That hide," he replies, "You know how our hair makes us warmer when we wrap it around us? I was thinking we could do the same with the deer's hair, and skin, and then when our hair moves we won't suddenly be cold." He takes some of it, and demonstrates his idea.  
"Does it not feel too… slimy?" She pulls a face as she picks up her own section. She doesn't mind so much when they're pulling it off the animal, but she thinks that she would prefer to be cold than to have long-term contact with it. "And there's an awful lot of holes in it."  
"There are." His shoulders droop a little, and he lets the skin drop from around them. His mouth twists. She feels his disappointment swirling in her gut, heavy, like hunger.  
"It's a good idea!" She rushes out, though internally she is busy trying to comprehend why it had hurt her to see him upset. "We just need a little more knowledge before we can make it work."  
He gives her a small smile, and reaches to touch her arm, then stops, grimaces, and laughs  
"Shall we clean up a little?"  
She laughs with him, standing and taking his hand to pull him up with her. They tumble down to the stream.  
The blood that has already dried proves rather difficult to get off.

The next day, that which they didn't eat has begun to smell foul. They carry it as far away from their hollow as they have ever been, north into the rising mountains: they drop it from the top of a ridge, so that it will roll yet further from their home without them having to walk the distance. Though it is much lighter, half eaten, and divested of its skin and bones, it is as difficult to carry, because they are both unwilling to touch it more than they must, when it smells like that. They hurry home in tense silence, uncomfortable with the distance from all they have explored and become familiar with so far. Next time they are hungry they eat roots only.

And then the day after that, Tatiē awakens to Tata shaking her vigorously.  
"Tatiē! Listen!" He hisses in her ear, the breathy S sound making her cringe. She focuses as best she can when she's mostly still asleep and much of her woken mind is preoccupied with the discomfort of her current position on the ground. She reaches a hand back and places it over Tata's mouth in an attempt to hear anything over his breath in her ear… if she listens closely, she can hear a shuffling in the middle distance. Like the noise of a large animal searching for food in the forest.  
Large animals have, so far, not come anywhere near their hollow.  
Throwing herself back into the frame of mind from the hunt, she eases herself upwards, every sense as sharply alerted as they can be, both to the disturbance and her own movements. Tata watches from the ground, eyebrows furrowed.  
Her ears swivel, and she scans their surroundings but cannot find - there!  
Movement, low to the ground, among the sleeping Kwen. She waits. A soft mmph, breathing, the rustling of grass as fingers card through it.  
"Tata! They're Awakening!" She whispers, and his eyes blow wide. She stands, feeling awkwardly exposed even in her small height, and hesitantly approaches the small cluster of Kwen.  
They go silent at the sound of her footsteps  
"Hello?" She calls, and in quick succession one and then the other sit up.


	3. Burning

Lasande and Tuluku are odd. The first words they invent are "sister" and "brother", which is apparently what they are to each other. They say it is because they awoke together.  
Tatiē doesn't know how to talk to them like she does to Tata, which is frightening; unless she needs to communicate some practical detail to them, which is also frightening, because they obey her every word like it's some great truth. She hopes they'll be less like that once they've been awake a bit longer and have more experience of their own, but for now she never knows what to say to them.  
Tata, though, seems to have endless things to discuss, and doesn't seem to care who he's discussing them with. For some reason this makes her stomach feel bad, like hunger but twistier and not so empty.  
Still, she teaches them what she does know, though both of them are too scared still to go far from the hollow yet. Tuluku is better at making flint-knives, but Lasande is better at catching fish.

One day, the sky darkens and draws close, and the stars wink out. Tatiē has seen rain before, but this time the air feels heavy on her skin in a way she is wary of. Lasande and Tuluku are terrified, and won't be parted from her or Tata, so she tells them to huddle together beneath an outcrop of their ridge. She herself suspends Tata's fur experiments - which have gotten less hole-riddled as their butchery improves, but still rot - over them as best she can, to keep out the rain. As always, the rain takes longer to come than they expect, but when it does come it is heavier than she's ever seen it.  
Then she is blinded by light. For less than a heartbeat a pure white crack appears in the sky, then vanishes. Several shaky breaths later, the sky rumbles like a rockslide.  
When this continues, but the world does not crumble, she hears Tuluku let out a breath that turns halfway into a sob, and Lasande, somewhat wobbly herself, whispering to comfort him. Tata presses close to her and she looks at him, wondering if he also wants comfort. Instead he breathes "Have you seen that before?" so close to her ear she can feel not just the warmth of it but also the dampness. It tickles. She shakes her head minutely, and he asks "What shall we call it?"  
She watches another streak tear through the sky, this time hitting a scraggly tree huddled in their hollow like them. Orange tongues of light grow and lick at the tree, and she can feel the heat of them from here, but the rain eventually smothers them.  
"Lightning," she says, and then more slowly, an idea dribbling together in her mind, "And fire."

After the storm is gone, she spends some time trying to make fire of her own. She knows Kwen bodies are warm but hugs have never set fire to things like the lightning did. She tries anyway. Inspecting the tree makes it clear that fire uses up some of the wood and turns the rest to grey dust she calls ash. The fire was quelled by the rain so she gathers a little wood and keeps it as dry as she can. Hugging it does little.

They get better at hunting. They learn to slit their prey's neck if they can, and Lasande and Tuluku begin to venture out also, so there is more food and they can have meat and fish and roots all at the same time, which is good because four bellies are a lot bigger than one. They also have all the various other bits of plants Lasande keeps eating, though some make her sick. She ventures mainly into the treeline, though not far, and insists that she watches other creatures to determine what is edible, but there's always some risk.

Eventually, Tatiē discovers that rubbing her hands together produces more heat than is natural. When she rubs her hands on the wood, they come away full of splinters, and she has to numb her hand in the stream so Tata can pull them out. It has the singular upside that Tuluku and Lasande no longer think her quite so all-knowing.  
Next she rubs the wood together, but she cannot move it fast enough or on a small enough spot, so she digs a hole in one piece with a knife then puts the other in it and turns it back and forth. It smokes but doesn't catch. Instead the grass does. She has to stomp it out like the rain did, and make another trip to the stream because Kwen also burn, as it turns out.  
But after that she sets alight a small ball of dry grass (over a bare rock, this time) and then that sets alight the wood and she has created fire.

Later, tired out, Tatiē sits on the bank of the stream, bones and carving-knives abandoned in her lap. Tata stands knee deep in their stream, splashing about a good deal, his dark hair piled and wrapped around his shoulders to keep it out the water. She cheers every time he catches a slippery silver fish between his hands. He releases them each time, since they have already eaten, and as they have learnt, any they catch and do not eat will rot before they are hungry again. When he gets bored, he wades back over to her, splashing her ankles. She reaches over and is beginning to unwrap his hair when they hear the grass rustling behind them.  
Tatiē whirls around and springs to her feet, but there is nothing to see. She turns, scanning the air. She feels watched, which is a sensation weird enough when it is Tata, her friend, except these eyes are not his; and yet she cannot see whose else they could be. He rises to his feet beside her.  
"Another Awakening?" But he sounds doubtful of that. His knuckles are white about one of her knives.  
And she still cannot see who watches.  
They stand tense for a long while.Eventually, the sensation recedes.  
They take it in turns to sleep while the other watches, even though they are both tired.


End file.
